The Last Mission
by DarthJosef
Summary: In their twilight days, Hera Shepard and Garrus Vakarian embark on one last mission together. Along the way, they explore their friendship and their trust in one another.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This came out of an idea I had for a road trip . . . but suddenly, Mass Effect came into play and I started to see the possibilities. Also, I have a fondness for the older among us . . . and I love Garrus and Shepard as best friends, and maybe the last ones standing. This is the first chapter of what I hope will be many more. Now, if I could just figure out what happens next . . .

* * *

Garrus Vakarian was dying.

He knew it, no matter what the doctors said about hope and chances. He could feel it in each breath, like each inhale was part of a countdown. He could feel it all the way down to his bones.

And he was looking forward to it. At least it would be a way out of this sterile room. A way out of this damn bed. He wasn't actually strapped to it, but he might as well be.

_This is the room I'm going to die in. All I'm doing is waiting for it to happen._

He wasn't afraid of death. He'd stared down the barrel of too many guns too many times . . . but this room scared the hell out of him. He'd never really expected to live this long. And now, he was disappointed that he had. _Killed in the line of duty, blaze of glory, some kind of noble sacrifice, blah blah blah. _Nearly all the people he'd fought with, and for, over the years were gone now. People he had – finally – been able to call friends. In a way, at least that was something. No witnesses to this frail shadow of who he'd once been.

They'd pumped him full of painkillers. To keep him comfortable, they said. But all he really felt was numb. And useless.

He wasn't even whole anymore. His left arm had been torn off battling the last vestiges of Cerberus two decades back. He'd had a robotic replacement provided by Legion, of all people, and it worked, more or less. But he ached for the loss of his flesh and blood.

His visor, almost a part of him for most of his life, had been replaced by a cybernetic implant.

Now, looking at the glaring white walls, hearing the hum and beep of various machines he was hooked into (_I hate that, maybe the most_), he thought that if he had to die, he should at least get to choose where it happened. _Not here._

But what the hell else was he going to do? His muscles, once so strong, had atrophied. His body was tired. Hell, even his eye was going.

And here came another doctor into the room. Fantastic.

"Look," he said as she checked his chart on the terminal by the door. "Dr. Gripson has already checked on me today. Everything's stable. No news is good news, right?"

"Oh, I don't know about that. No news sounds awfully boring to me."

Garrus looked up at the doctor and found himself staring at the smirking face of Hera Shepard. Years had come and gone since he'd last seen her – and the lines in her face, the hair, once a deep red, now silver, showed their passing – but there was no mistaking her. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped, and he almost smiled – but then he stopped, his face tightening up, and fell back against the pillow.

"Get out of here, Shepard. I don't need a pity visit. I don't need flowers."

"I didn't bring any." Time had made her voice almost as raspy as his. She turned and closed the door.

"Look, just . . . " He stopped and rolled away from her gaze, grunting with the effort. "I just don't want you to see me like this."

"I know," she said. "That's why I'm here."

Her hand grabbed his arm above the elbow and he felt the hot sting of a needle jabbed into his vein.

"Ouch!" He glared at her. "Goddamn it, Shepard! What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting you out of here."

"What the - ?"

"If I used an omni-tool, it would alert every nurse in the building, so I had to do this the old fashioned way. This," she indicated the syringe she was still pushing into his arm, "will make you well enough to travel. I should warn you, though – you won't have any painkillers."

"Let me get this straight. You're busting me out of the hospital?"

"Yep. You hate hospitals. Also, I need a favor."

The first real smile in years bloomed on the turian's face.

"Okay. What's the plan?" He tried to sit up straight, but immediately fell back to the pillow. "Ugh. I don't know how much help I'm going to be."

Shepard was busy clipping tiny devices to the machines in the room. "Give it a couple minutes," she said. "I've got to run interference, anyway."

Garrus watched as Shepard finished setting the loops on the machines that were supposed to be monitoring his . . . everything. They would feed recycled data back to the nurses' station. As long as no one actually looked in his room, it would look like he was here.

And then he noticed a dull ache in his bicep above where Shepard had given him the shot. The ache flared suddenly hot and bright, and Garrus gasped. Pain began spreading out from his muscle throughout his body. Every nerve felt like needles of ice. Each muscle felt stretched to the point of breaking. Even his bones felt like they might shatter at any moment.

Something between a growl and a scream was being pulled out of him. The sound filled the room before fading out.

"Wow. That was loud," commented Shepard. "Good thing I shut the door."

Garrus was doubled over, fighting for breath. Shepard walked to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

Garrus straightened up slowly. "Ah, it hurts. So. Much." He turned to look at her. "It feels fucking fantastic."

"Glad you think so, because the pain isn't going to stop, G."

"Good. What the hell did you shoot me up with? I know it's not a cure."

"It's a failed Alliance experiment. Supposed to boost physical prowess, or something."

"Where'd you get it?"

"There are advantages to being married to the Shadow Broker. Anyway, the Alliance wanted to use it in the field, but it had an unfortunate side effect."

"The pain?"

"Okay, side effect_s_. The pain is part of it, but the main thing is that, eventually, it kills you."

Garrus just stared at her.

"Come on, Garrus. Don't be mad. You were dying anyway."

Still the stare.

"Look, Garrus – what? Paralysis isn't one of the –"

Garrus suddenly grabbed her and pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I didn't have the guts . . . "

"It's okay, Garrus. If it was me, I wouldn't either."

He released her. Looked at her for just a moment, and then cast his eyes towards the door.

"So what's the next step?"

She grinned, a real smile, which took about ten years off her face. "Okay, I have a cab waiting outside, and –"

The door opened. "Okay, Mr. Vakarian, we just have one more shot for the pain today," a salarian nurse was saying, then stopped short as looked up and saw the turian (_on his_ feet? _How is that even possible?_) and the human, frozen, looking at him.

"Uh," the nurse began, enabling his omni-tool.

Quicker than would have been even imaginable five minutes before, Garrus reached out, grabbed the nurse, twisting his arm behind him, and deactivated the omni-tool.

"Wait," the salarian sputtered. "You need your rest! You're not well!"

"I got better."

An idea occurred to Garrus. He reactivated the nurse's omni-tool, changed the destination for the painkiller dose – and seconds later, the nurse was sleeping peacefully in Garrus's bed.

"Where's this cab?" He looked at Shepard.

Ten minutes and another unconscious salarian later, Shepard and Garrus were heading toward the spaceport in a ground cab.

"Hmm. Wheels. How quaint," said Garrus.

"Stow it, G. It's a good way to travel for something like this – air traffic is monitored way more closely."

"Fair enough," said Garrus. He looked sideways at her. "You mentioned a favor?"

"Yeah," she said, and he saw the old Shepard mask draw over her face. All business, when a mission was at hand. "There's a new information broker in town, not part of Liara's network, but he has been branching out. He's united all three merc gangs."

"Blue Suns, Blood Pack and Eclipse, all working together? Sounds . . . familiar."

"You see why I wanted you along. We think he's trying to push Liara out and become the new Shadow Broker. That pisses me off."

Garrus chuckled. "Yeah, I'll bet."

Her tone became sharp. "This is serious, Garrus."

"Right, sorry."

Shepard sighed. "It's okay. It's just . . . I'm not getting any younger, Garrus. I don't have a lot of time left, and I . . . I just want to keep her safe as long as I can. I want her to know I did all I could." Her voice broke. "For as long as I can."

Garrus put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Commander." He called her by her rank, to give her strength. "So what's the first step?"

She cleared her throat and straightened up a bit. "Okay, right. There's a smuggler in the Yangtze system. He's worked for all three gangs at one time or another, knows their systems, and they all trust him as much as they trust anyone – because he's beholden only to the bottom line."

"Right," said Garrus. "He can be trusted to go where the money is. His loyalties are consistent. Got it."

"Liara's tapped him as a potential source on this new broker. We need to talk to him."

"Just talk?"

"For starters."


	2. Chapter 2

They made it to the spaceport without further incident, which Garrus found mildly disappointing.

"Hmph," said Garrus. "I guess this old soldier isn't worth sending out the guards for anymore." He looked at Hera. "I'm a little insulted."

"Don't take it personally, Garrus. They just don't know the damage you can still do. Remember, they think you're sick. Think of it as . . . stealth mode."

"Huh. Okay."

"How's the pain?"

"Constant. I can deal. And I guess I'll have to, for the rest of my life – so, not long. Beats the hell out of feeling numb, though."

"I bet."

He looked ahead to where she was leading him and stopped. "Um, Shepard? What is that?"

"What is what?"

"That thing." He pointed.

"That? That's our ship."

"That's not a ship, Shepard. That's a flying deathtrap. _If_ it even flies."

"Well, like you said, you're going to die soon anyway," she grinned. "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that I just got back on my feet. I'd like to stretch them for a bit before I check out."

The ship, a small freighter, looked like it was made of rust with a couple of gray patches peeking through. Garrus was pretty sure he could make out a spiderweb crack in one of the viewports, and the starboard landing strut had obviously been replaced by one from a different ship. As a result, the ship leaned slightly to the left. And covering the hatch control –

"Shepard, is that . . . is that duct tape?"

"Yes, but," she leaned toward him and whispered conspiratorially. "The whole thing is actually held together with bubble gum." She grinned.

He didn't. "I'm not getting on that thing," he said, folding his arms.

"Relax, Garrus. Just like you, she's in stealth mode. We're going to be smugglers for this. We have to look the part."

"Can't we be successful smugglers? Smugglers who aren't rolling the dice on death every liftoff?"

"Garrus, have you ever heard the human expression, 'don't judge a book by its cover?'"

"Have you ever heard the turian expression, 'don't get on a ship that … sucks?'"

"It's not . . . It doesn't –" Hera gave a grunt of exasperation as she hit the hatch control. A little of the duct tape peeled back. "Look, just get in, will you?"

Garrus sighed and headed up the ramp. "Nice knowing you."

Hera rolled her eyes. "This is gonna be a long trip," she muttered as she followed the turian.

She joined Garrus in the cockpit. He had already made himself comfortable in the co-pilot's chair and swiveled to face her.

"Okay, Hera. I take back some of what I said. The weapons and navigation systems here are top notch. They'll be a real loss when the hull cracks and falls away during our next plunge into atmo."

"Good thing that won't happen, then," she said, starting the ignition sequence.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I called in a favor from an L8 engineer. He's been working on some alliance projects and managed to conjure up an effect shield that basically acts as a second hull. All that rust out there is just for show."

Garrus considered this for a moment. "Okay, Hera, my trust in you is restored. What about the landing strut? Another bit of subterfuge? Wait, don't tell me – I think I got it. The ship's core has been refitted to sit at an angle, so when it looks cockeyed on the ground, the core is actually level, right?"

"Uh," said Shepard, looking away. "No, I . . . um, well, the last time I flew her, there was a . . . I mean, I, uh . . . well, crashed - and I had to get her repaired quick. Never got around to getting a proper replacement."

Garrus rested his face in his palm. "Lovely," he muttered.

"Look, it wasn't my fault! Most everything runs perfectly!" said Hera indignantly.

"_Most?_"

"Well . . ." At that moment, much to Hera's embarrassment, the engine chose to cough, sputter, and die. "Dammit." She started the engine again. There was a loud BANG, then the engine settled into a much more comforting hum. "Ah. There," she said.

"Actually, never mind," said Garrus. "I don't want to know."

The ship lifted off smoothly, however, and soon they were heading for the relay to the Yangtze system.

"How old is this thing, anyway?" Garrus asked.

"Older than me, that's for sure."

Garrus chuckled. "Well, that's certainly saying something."

Hera punched him, hard, on the arm. Unfortunately for her, it was the robotic arm.

"Ow!"

Garrus smirked. "You hit pretty well for an old lady, but you know, you always rush in where angels fear to tread. Sometimes, that'll bite you. Figured you might have learned that by now."

"Garrus . . . shut up."

"Is your hand okay? Don't want your arthritis acting up."

"Shut. Up." Her eyes were steel. "Wasn't one of us dying, useless, in a hospital, a couple hours ago? So who's the old one here? Hell, you didn't even wait to get old – you were crotchety when I first met you."

"Hmph. Fine."

"See? Besides, just because she's an old ship doesn't mean she can't take us where we need to go. She's still got some life left in her. And being old just means she's been through a lot. If she could talk, what tales she could tell."

"Yeah. Kind of like us, I guess." He looked up at Hera. "But for how long?"

She met his gaze. "We never know, do we? In our line of work, we were more likely to cash it in years ago. Maybe it was just luck we made it this far. Or maybe, like the ship, we had heart. We could take a beating and still walk on – or, in Jack's case, fly."

"You named the ship Jack? Really?"

"Well, you know, rough on the outside . . . "

Garrus nodded. "Got it."

Garrus looked out the viewport, thinking of Jack . . . and Wrex, and Dr. Chakwas, and Joker, and Ashley, and Samara, and Mordin, and Thane, and Grunt, and Miranda, and Jacob, and Kasumi. All had become his friends, to one degree or another. And all of them were now gone. There were only a couple left from the crew they had all once been a part of.

His tried to make his thoughts gather around the ones that were left. "How's Liara doing these days, anyway?"

"She's good," said Hera, but there was a set to her jaw that made Garrus doubt her words. "But, you know, busy. The work of the Shadow Broker is never done. She keeps . . . odd hours. I feel like, sometimes, we just keep missing each other."

Garrus watched as Hera busied herself with the controls, checking readings, scopes, charts, back to the controls, monitored the drive . . .

"You just can't sit still, can you?"

"No. Not when Liara needs me."

"Are you sure that this is the way Liara needs you? Out here, when you could be with her, back there? I mean, why did she send _you_ to do this? She must have hundreds, if not thousands, of agents who could do this kind of work."

"Actually, once we realized what was happening, I volunteered. In fact, I _told_ her I was doing it. She tried to talk me out of it." She looked at him. "I need to keep her safe, Garrus. _I _do. I can't trust anyone else to take care of her. It has to be me. Someone else," she swallowed, hard. "Someone else might get it wrong."

"Well, you certainly have your priorities in order."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

Garrus turned to look at her. "Hera, I understand that you want to protect Liara, but while you're out here, you're missing your life back there, with her. You've always been too busy – saving the galaxy, righting wrongs, whatever. And that's great work – but when's it enough? You need to hand over the reins and take some time for yourself and your family, before it's too late."

"I –"

"I know it feels like she'll live forever – but _you_ won't. While you're out here, playing gunslinger, she's missing days and weeks with you that she'll never get back. And neither will you. You gotta get _in_ it. Let your guard down. Right now, you're outside of it, protecting her, sure – but you need to get in it. She needs you in it, or you're going to miss the time you have left."

"Look, I hear what you're saying, but . . . sometimes, I feel like I'm just getting in her way at home. Maybe this is the only way I can show her, you know, that I . . ."

"But what if she doesn't get the message? There are other ways. You know it and so does she. So make the effort. Make the time. Make it before . . . it's too late. You're too busy protecting her and in the meantime you're not living with her. You never know when you're gonna run out of time. And you'll never get those moments back – the moments you missed." He turned away. "I'm trying to tell you something that I figured out. Something I figured out too late."

Suddenly, it dawned on Hera why he felt so strongly about all this. Her face reddened. _I should have known._

"Garrus, I'm . . . I was sorry to hear about Tali."

Silence.

"I wish I'd –"

"Thought you would've at least made it for the funeral." His voice had an edge to it she didn't recognize.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too. She was sure – " He stopped. Cleared his throat. Took a breath. "She was sure you'd be there. Even on the last day, she was hanging on, waiting for you."

It was Hera's turn for silence.

"At least you were at our wedding. Oh, wait. No, you weren't." The edge is his voice had turned into real anger now.

"I was in a coma when she died, Garrus."

He took a second to take this in. "That's typical."

"What!?"

"Typical. Typical Shepard. What was it when we got married? Oh, right, deep cover, some damn covert op. And this time, you got what? Shot?"

"Yeah." She could feel her own anger rising now. "Yeah, I got shot. In the gut, I might add. I was out for two weeks."

"Yeah. Figures," he muttered.

"Figures what?"

Garrus exploded. "You never remember that people care about you when you're off doing who knows what! You never remember what you're trying so hard to protect! So what the hell does it matter anyway? You're always off doing some goddamn thing while the rest of us worry about you and hope we'll catch a glimpse of you once in a goddamn decade! But we're no more important to you than the next goddamn mission! Meanwhile, life is happening and you're missing it! Instead, you're fucking chasing death. Goddammit, Shepard!"

Her voice rose. "Well, who the hell else – "

"I don't CARE!" he roared. "SOMEBODY ELSE! You're not going to live forever, Shepard! I'm sure you think you're invulnerable, because you've cheated death so many times, but eventually, it'll catch up with you! And what will you have to show for it, huh?"

"I have Liara – "

"You need more than one person, Shepard. You know it. If your time on the Normandy showed you anything at all, it showed you that. And how much of Liara do you really have, when you're out here, tracking down trouble with me, instead of being at home, where you belong? Are you going to cheat her out of time with you, because you can't find some other way to show her how you feel? I'm sorry, but you're running out of time – just like I did, just like Tali did." He took a deep breath. "So what's going to happen in the time you have left? You going to just keep on, let her drift away while you're being her bodyguard instead of her wife?"

"No!"

"Then prove it. Be brave, Shepard. Do something that really scares you – let her see how much you need her. After all this time together, you deserve it. So does she."

Hera was silent for a good minute. He could hear her breathing. Was she trying to come up with a good retort, or had she listened to what he said?

Finally, she let out a long breath. "Dammit. Okay, Garrus. You're right." She looked at him, and although her face was dry, he could see the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "This will be the last mission. Then I'm done."

Garrus nodded. He reached over to touch her shoulder, but she batted his hand away.

"Don't touch me, not right now," she said. She glanced at him. "You know me too damn well, you know that?"

"Yeah, well, that goes both ways, Hera."


	3. Chapter 3

"This is the ASV Jack, requesting clearance to land."

Static.

"This is the ASV Jack. Do you copy?" Hera frowned at the comm system, then glanced at Garrus.

"Don't look at me, Shep. Comm's green."

The sound of harsh coughing cut through the silence, followed by a man's voice. "Oh, uh, hi there. Sorry, you caught me, um, in the middle of something."

"Uh, hi back," said Hera. "This is the ASV Jack – "

"Oh, yeah, okay. Heard you the first two times," the man's voice drawled. "Well, come on down. There's no – heh heh – lineor anything. Umm, yeah, out." The comm clicked silent.

"This far out of the way, things are likely to be a little more . . . informal, I guess," said Garrus as Hera broke atmo and took the ship down. "Maybe he was about to take a nap."

Hera said nothing, although she silently agreed.

The spaceport was tiny, barely more than a landing pad and a shack. Dusty wind and acid rain had nearly worn the markings on the pad away. Shepard put the ship down and she and Garrus stepped on to the surface.

"You take me to the most charming places," said Garrus, surveying the bleak landscape. The jagged rocks reminded him of broken teeth, and everything was in shades of grey, from slate to soot. "How did you know I love desolation more than anything else in the entire galaxy?"

"Stow it, Garrus," Hera retorted. She was still a little raw from the way he had ripped into her on the way here.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Commander," he said. "Wait . . . you're not my commander anymore. So I guess I'm not sorry." He looked at the shack. "I'm going to build a summer home here, live out the few rest of my days with this lovely view."

Hera sighed. She was going to have to be the one to stow it. It was a foreign concept to her, but Garrus had literally nothing to lose and could keep at her all day.

The shack's door banged open and a human man, wearing a cowboy hat, goggles, a dirty leather jacket, and workboots, stumbled out and promptly fell down the stairs.

"Hera," said Garrus. "That man is not wearing pants."

"I see that. I wish I could unsee it."

The man got to his feet. "Hey, there," he said.

"Hey," said Hera.

"Uh, yeah. Hey," said Garrus.

"Hey," said the pantsless human again. He blinked. "Oh, yeah, right, you guys just landed."

Garrus looked at Hera. She avoided his gaze.

"Well, come on in," the man continued. "Let's get you all, you know, registered and whatnot."

As they followed him up the stairs, Garrus muttered, "I think he might be stoned."

"You bet I am," said the man. "Hell yes. Do you think I could sit out here at the ass end of space and not get high? I'd lose my shit within a week."

"Well, I guess I can't begrudge you that," said Garrus. "What do you see when you look at the landscape, then, in your, ah, state of mind? Butterflies and moonbeams?"

"Nah, pretty much the same shit you see. Just kinda . . . blurrier."

"I can see how that would be an improvement."

The man led them inside the shack and took off his goggles. The sound of the wind diminished slightly as he slammed the door shut.

"Okay, let's get you two checked in and start this party up proper." He tapped the console and it buzzed to life. Immediately, the room filled with music – guitars, and guitars again.

Garrus gave a start. "Hey, wait . . . I know this. This is from Earth." He looked at Hera.

She shrugged. "Got me."

"Yeah, it's . . . what the hell is it?" Garrus looked at the ceiling. "It's gonna bug me all day if I can't remember. Man, I haven't heard this in years."

The man smirked. "You'll figure it out in about thirty seconds."

"Wait, I got it," said Garrus, as the vocals began – _what'll you do when you get lonely? _– "It's, uh, Darin, no – Derek! Derek and the . . . Legos? No, Dominoes! Derek and the Dominoes! Layla!" He grinned triumphantly.

"Give the man a prize, didn't even wait for the chorus," said the controller. "But for the bonus point, can you name the guitarist?"

Garrus's brow furrowed. "Uhhh, Derek?"

"Well, nice try. Eric. Eric Clapton. Some folks thought he was a god back on Earth in the 20th. Glad you like the –heh heh – tunes, man." He turned to Hera. "What do you think, lady?"

"Never heard it."

"Well, you've been missing out."

Garrus cast a meaningful glance at Hera. "Funny, I was just telling her the same thing on the way here."

Her jaw clenched, but she said nothing.

The man turned back to Garrus and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, brother. I'm Zig. Zignitowski Poporovich. Most people just call me Dude, though." Garrus shook his hand.

"Dude, huh?" said Hera.

"Yep." The man grabbed a smoldering joint from an ashtray on the console desk, flipped it over in his fingers and offered it to Garrus. "Want a smoke?"

"Uh, no thanks, not right now. We _are _here on business, actually . . . but, well, hmm. Do you grow that here, uh, Dude?"

"Are you kidding, man? What could grow here?" Dude offered the joint to Hera, who shook her head. "Nah, I have a border ship that stops by about once a month. I clear them through, no questions, they drop me an ounce. Nice arrangement." He eyed them, suddenly suspicious. "Are you guys cops?"

"Well, I used to be," said Garrus. "But no longer. Maybe when we're done with our business here, I might be able to make you a deal. It's been a while."

Hera rolled her eyes. "Really, Garrus?"

"Really, Hera. Let this old man have a little fun on his last mission."

"Alright – heh heh – to business," said Dude. "What brings you here? Gotta write it down, you can go do whatever, and I can started on my nap."

"We're looking for someone."

And that was when the door exploded.

Hera and Garrus both dropped to the floor, their weapons in their hands. Dude stood gaping at the hole where the door used to be.

"Wow, man, someone really knows how to harsh a guy's mellow . . ."

Garrus looked at Hera. "How did they know we were here?"

She shrugged. "No idea."

A voice from outside suddenly called out. "Come on out, Dude. It's the only way."

Garrus and Hera looked at each other, then up at Dude.

"Ah, fuck," he said, dropping to the floor alongside them. "Sevak."

"You've got until the count of three," called the voice.

"Look, can you guys help me here?" Dude pleaded.

"One!"

"Depends," said Garrus. "Can you tell us where we can find . . . uh, what's our contact's name, Shepard?"

"Zignitowski Poporovich. Also known as Dude."

"What?"

"Two!"

"_He's_ our guy?"

"Yep."

"Oh, fuck. Again," said Dude.

"Yep," Hera repeated.

"I guess we've got no choice, then," said Garrus.

"Nope."

"Three!"

Gunfire erupted into the shack, tearing into the console, which stopped mercifully just as the playout from "Layla" was getting started. The windows shattered. The rest of the hardware was torn to shreds. The firing stopped, and a batarian stepped through the ragged hole as the dust settled. Two human mercs, wearing the colors of the Blue Suns, flanked him.

"Get his body," the leader said. "No matter how many holes are in it. We need proof –"

But that was as far as he got. Having a pistol muzzle suddenly thrust against your temple will shut most people up, and it certainly did the trick for the merc.

"Sevak, I presume?" said Hera. "Call off your dogs."

But before the batarian could speak, his henchmen turned and fired. Garrus, already on the move, ducked under and closed the distance before the human got off a second shot. He pulled the rifle from the merc's hards and slammed his robotic fist into the man's face. The merc crumpled to the ground.

Hera was not so lucky. The shot penetrated her armor, grazed her shoulder. She turned her pistol on the merc, but Sevak took the opportunity to spin away, bringing up his own weapon.

Garrus pointed his rifle at Sevak, Sevak at Hera, Hera at the human merc, and the merc at Garrus. They stood frozen there, eyes wide, weapons ready to fire at the twitch of a finger.

"Wow, man," came Dude's drawling voice from under the remains of the shack. "I can't wait to see what happens next."

A small object rolled into the middle of the four soldiers. Garrus risked a glance down with his cybernetic eye. _Flash grenade. _"Hera, eyes!"

The grenade exploded, bright as the sun. Sevak and the other merc screamed and covered their eyes, dropping to the ground.

As their eyes refocused, they found themselves staring down the barrel of Garrus and Hera's pistols.

"Now, nobody move," said Hera. "We have some questions."

"I will not answer," said Sevak.

"Then you will have several rounds enter your body at locations of my choosing. None fatal, but most definitely painful."

"What do you want to know?"

"That's more like it," said Shepard. "Who sent you?"

"The Shadow Broker."

Hera reversed her grip on her weapon and slammed it into the batarian's ear. Blood flew from the impact and he rolled over on his side.

"Do. Not. Lie. To. Me. Again." Hera hissed.

"Okay, okay!" said the batarian. "We've been working with Eclipse and the Blood Pack – "

"We know this already. Start spilling –" She moved the pistol over his kneecap. " – or I will."

"It came on a disc, with our usual assignments, no ID! The instructions were to kill the target, retrieve the body, and if there was any question, say the Shadow Broker sent us."

"Not good enough!" Hera cocked her pistol and leveled it at the merc's head.

"I have the disc! It's in our speeder!"

"That's a start. Where do you pick up your assignments?"

"It's a shipping transfer station on Illium."

"Okay," said Hera. "You've bought yourself a few more breaths." She holstered her weapon, then kicked Sevak in the face. His body went limp.

"Wow, man," said Dude, climbing out from under the shack. "You're kind of a badass . . . for an old lady."

"Well, I've been doing this sort of thing since, oh, before you were born," replied Hera. "Thanks for the flash-bang."

"Sure. Glad I could bring something to the party."

"Shoulder okay, Shep?" asked Garrus.

She grimaced. "Not really, can't move that arm too well right now, but we'll slap some medi-gel on it when we get back to the ship. I'll be all right."

"Okay. Oh, I almost forgot," said Garrus. He pulled back his arm to knock the other merc out –

"Wait a second, man," interrupted Dude. "I got something that'll knock him out without all the – heh heh – violence."

Garrus hesitated. "I like violence. But," he dropped his arm. "Okay."

Dude disappeared into the remains of the shack and returned a second later with a tiny bottle.

"This, I was saving for a special occasion. But . . . oh well."

"No, wait!" cried the man.

Dude tipped about half the bottle down the protesting merc's throat. The man's eyes opened wide, then rolled back white in his head, and he fell to the ground.

"Well, he'll have some far-out nightmares tonight, that's for sure," said Dude.

Garrus was intrigued. "What is that?"

"Adrenal fluid from a thresher maw."

Garrus and Hera's jaws dropped as one. "_What_?"

"Yeah, man – totally crazy hallucinogen. Reflects the character of the person taking it. Laid back guy like me – "

"Smuggler," pointed out Hera.

"Man's gotta make a living," shrugged Dude. "I don't hurt anyone. I just get paid. So I take that, I got – what did you say?" he asked, nodding at Garrus. "Butterflies and moonbeams? Yeah. That. But this guy, he's gonna have a dark, dark night. Full of creepy crawlies."

"You don't hurt anybody, huh?" asked Hera. "Ever smuggle guns?"

"Well, yeah, but – look, if I didn't, someone else would."

Hera arched an eyebrow. "Glad that helps you see your butterflies and moonbeams."

Dude met her gaze, then dropped it. "Whatever, man."

Garrus cleared his throat. "Okay, let's get these three trussed up. I'll go get the disc. Illium next?"

Hera nodded, rubbing her injured shoulder. "Yeah."

Garrus walked off, following the mercs' tracks.

Hera looked at Dude. "And you," she said. "Put some pants on."

"And don't forget my weed!" called Garrus over his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

Hera looked out at the stars through the cockpit canopy. In holos and games, the stars always streaked by during flight, but out here, in real space, the ship might not have been moving at all. The stars were just too far apart.

Too far apart, like some other things. She sighed. Her eye caught on a holo of herself and Liara clipped to the panel. "Hey, lady," she said, her finger touching the surface. "I miss you." What was Li doing right now? She was suddenly struck with a desperate need to know – just to hear her voice, just to say . . . anything. Her hand started to reach for the comm – but then she clenched her fingers. "No," she whispered, dropping her head and closing her eyes. "What would I say, anyway?"

Just then, the comm buzzed. Hera raised her head, startled, staring at the panel. She glanced at the hatch behind her, then grabbed the headset and put it on. She was very aware of her heart beating – pounding, really –as she took the call.

"This is the ASV Jack, receiving. Go ahead." Her voice barely shook at all.

"Hello, Hera." Liara's voice spoke into her ear. "I did not know if I should call, perhaps I might be interrupting, but I wanted to know how . . . how the mission was going."

"Hey, Li. Liara," said Hera, hating the sound of her too-raspy voice. "We're doing okay. Garrus is with me, and we have Dude, too. On to Illium next." Like it was the weather report. Like it was just a check in. Didn't Liara know what she really wanted to say? Couldn't she read between the lines? "I, uh, caught a bullet in my shoulder, but other than that –"

"You WHAT?!"

"It's okay," Hera lied. Goddess, she hated to lie to Liara, but she didn't want her to worry – and more, she didn't want her to think Hera wasn't up to the task. "Just a graze. Already put some gel on it." Well, that part was true, anyway.

"I do not like this, Hera. You are putting yourself in harm's way for me, and if harm should befall you, I . . . I, well, I could not forgive myself for letting you go. You are not as . . . "

"Young as I used to be?" Hera clenched her jaw. "I know." _Yeah, but _you _are, Dr. T'Soni_, she thought.

"I am sorry, Hera," and Hera could hear that she was. "It is just . . . I do not want you to take any unnecessary risks."

"Yeah. Fine. Okay," said Hera. Her eyebrows had drawn together, but her throat felt raw.

"Well," said Liara, and Hera could tell by her tone she was searching for a way to change the subject. _Ah, Li, I know you so well._ "How is Garrus doing?"

Hera relaxed a little. "He's okay. Better, actually. I'm glad he's with me."

"That makes two of us. You two have always been good for each other."

"Huh." Hera considered. "Yeah. I guess that's true." _Mostly. But sometimes, he really pisses me off._

"You need someone to watch your five."

"Six, Li."

"Six, right." Hera could hear Liara's smile on the other end of the line – and it broke her heart. _Dammit, Li. What I wouldn't give to go back to when we were both young. When I could smile back._

* * *

"She sure is bossy." Dude nodded towards the cockpit.

"Well, she _is _the boss," said Garrus. "And she's earned it. But yeah, sometimes, she can be a little . . ."

"Irascible?"

Garrus looked at Dude. "Good word. Yeah. And sometimes, she forgets to look at the big picture. Especially when she's in it."

"She doesn't like me."

"Well, she doesn't like what you do, yeah. It's nothing personal."

"I kinda think it is."

"Hmm."

"So, man," said Dude. "You and her. You been together a while now, right?"

"Together?"

"Well, I figured, you know . . ."

"What? No. No!" said Garrus. "I mean, we've been friends for decades, but . . . no."

"Coulda fooled me. You act like you're married. For, like, ever."

If a turian could blush, Garrus would have been beet red at this moment.

"Yeah . . . no. I was married, but . . . she died."

"Sorry, man."

"Thanks." Garrus took a breath. "Yeah. The commander and I . . . we're just, you know, friends." _But once, you felt something else, right? _a little voice in the back of his mind piped up. _Just after Liara came back, all those years ago?_

"Shut up."

"Geez," said Dude, taken aback. "All I said was 'sorry'."

"Oh . . . no. I didn't mean you. Just had a weird thought go through my head."

"Oh, yeah, man. That happens to me, like, all the time. Weird thoughts are where I live. Speaking of which . . ." He pulled a small glass pipe and a bag of weed from inside his jacket. "Gonna have a few hits and some good dreams. Care to join me?"

"Maybe later," said Garrus. "So, what's your story, Dude? How'd you end up out here?"

"Who says I'm ending?" Dude broke off a green nugget and shoved it into the pipe with this thumb.

Garrus smirked. "Fair enough."

"Well, believe it or not, I don't actually know where I was born." He put the pipe to his lips and flicked his lighter. The green nugget turned bright orange.

"Really?"

Dude held up a hand as he inhaled, then held his breath, counting on his fingers. Finally, he blew out a cloud of blue smoke. "Heh heh, yeah. See, it was in some colony or other, don't honestly know which . . . but when I was six, we were attacked by some mercs. Wiped everybody out but me."

"Your parents?"

"My mom, yeah."

"Sorry. How'd you survive?"

"Tsokay. I knew the place, knew where to hide. Knew _how _to hide. And when they left, I was on their ship."

"Gutsy."

"I guess. It was the only way out. Couldn't have stayed in the colony – it was dead as . . . dead. So I stowed." He took another hit. "And I watched. And I learned."

"What'd you learn?"

"How to do what they did. How to not get caught. And how you can't trust anything. Except what a coin can get you."

"Hmm. When I was younger, I felt much the same. Not so much about the money, but the . . . trust."

"And now?"

"Now? Well." The turian considered. "I've learned to trust a few things. Not many, but . . . a few."

"Like her?"

"Who, Shepard?"

Dude nodded and blew out another cloud.

"Yeah, I trust her. She pisses me off sometimes, but . . . yeah. Without a doubt. I trusted Tali – my wife – too. She . . . well, she never pissed me off."

"Sounds like a great lady."

"Yeah," sighed Garrus. "Yeah, she was. The best lady."

"Cool. I never had a best lady. Lotsa ladies, sure, and a fella that one time, but nobody seemed to really get under my skin enough to make me, you know, follow when they hit the door."

"Funny. With me, it's the exact opposite. A very, very few – but they always got under my skin." _Including a certain Commander, right? _Garrus shook the thought away and continued. "But then, I'm not terribly casual."

"Really? You seem pretty relaxed to me."

"It's an act. Years of undercover work."

"Right. You're a cop."

"Used to be."

"Once a cop . . ."

"Maybe. But I – well, maybe I wasn't such a good cop. Kept breaking rules."

"A-ha. My kind of cop. Let's play. You arrest me. What happens next?"

Garrus raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. I find out where you're getting your jobs. And your stash."

"How?" Dude took another hit. He closed his eyes, imagining the scenario.

"I play nice. For a bit. You tell me what I want to know?"

"Maybe. Depends. What's in it for me?"

"You don't go to jail. I don't break your wrists. For starters."

"I need more. How bad you want the real bad guys?"

"Bad enough to get what I want. And I don't care about you at all."

"Okay. I make you a deal. I'll tell you what I know, you let me out, set me up with enough cash to hide. Just in case you don't get those guys. Or they got others watching their back."

Garrus considered. "Deal." He held out his hand.

Dude looked at the turian, then shook his hand. "Okay. Deal."

"But I need to be able to get to you again. You're a witness. And you got intel."

"Aw, fuck. You're turning me into an informant."

"I make it worth your while. You help me get the bad guys, I'll keep you out of the slam. With a little spending money to boot."

"Better make it more than a little. I can't do my job if people think I'm a snitch."

"We got a lot of snitches. I'll float their names. You'll be safe. But if you help me, and we get these guys, I'll up your share."

Dude inhaled deeply, coughed once. "Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Garrus grinned. "Great fuckin' movie."

* * *

"Li?"

"Yes?"

"I'm . . . I'm taking care of things. Of . . . of you. Okay?"

She heard Liara sigh over the headset, and somehow, that was the worst. "I know you are, Shepard. I . . . I have to go."

"Okay. See you." Hera hit the comm switch, cutting off the transmission.

_She called me Hera at first, then Shepard later. What's that about?_

"Sorry, Blue," she muttered. "Things are just so . . . different now."

_Different how? _said a voice in her head._ You love her. She loves you. Why is it so goddamn hard to talk to her?_

_Because you're pushing her away with everything you say and do_, another voice answered._ And if you keep trying to reach her now, you're just going to make it worse. Let her be. Let her go. Let her . . . grow. Your time is at an end. Hers is just beginning._

_She still wants you, _said the first voice. _She wants to share these moments with you._

_Ha!_ said the second._ You're an old lady. She's still a maiden. What can you possibly offer now?_

"Shut up," she said.

"I didn't say anything."

She jumped in her seat and turned around. Garrus stood there, looking perplexed.

"Oh, sorry, Garrus. Uh, not you. I didn't hear you come in." She looked out the canopy again, trying to sound nonchalant. "How long you been there?"

"About two seconds." Garrus looked around at the empty cockpit. "Talking to yourself, are you?"

She looked back at him. "Well . . . yeah. So?"

"So nothing," he said, settling into the copilot's seat. "I do it all the time. Just make sure you don't tell yourself any jokes you've heard before. They're just not as funny the second time."

Hera smirked. "Heh. Yeah. Will do." She looked beyond Garrus, through the hatchway. "Where's our guest?"

"Dude's finally taking his nap. And it'll be a long one, the amount of pot he smoked."

"Did you –"

"No, not yet. Still kind of, you know, on duty." He pointed at her shoulder. "How's it feel?"

She considered lying – again – but knew he'd see through it anyway. "Hurts like a bitch, G. Can't even move the damn thing now."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah."

"Poison? Radiation?"

"I don't know, but it wasn't just an ordinary round. I medi-gelled the hell out of it, but it might as well be water for all the good it's doing. And it's getting worse."

"We've got to get you to a med-center. Now."

"We're on a schedule here – "

"And how much good are you going to be with one arm?"

Hera couldn't argue. "Fine. Dammit."

"Sorry."

"I wish I'd been just a little faster. Ten years ago – hell, five years ago, that merc would be collecting flies."

"Well, we aren't quite what we used to be, are we?" He indicated his robotic arm. "Still pretty good, though. Still breathing. And we got our man."

"Such as he is."

"He's all right."

"He's a waste."

Garrus narrowed his eyes at her. "What makes you say that?"

Hera shrugged. "He's got no scruples whatsoever – only beholden to the bottom line, remember? And he's not even thinking clearly . . . ever, as far as I can tell."

"He helped us back there."

"Sure, because he knew which was the wind was blowing. He was just saving his own ass. We'll find out what he knows, then we cut him loose."

"You've become jaded in your old age, Shepard."

"You've been jaded since you were born, Garrus. What makes you like him so much, anyway?"

Garrus considered. "Hmm. Just a feeling, I guess. Wouldn't necessarily trust him, but I think there's something under all that crap you see. Plus," he added. "I dig his taste in music."

"Dig?"

"It means I like it. Come on, Hera – you grew up on Earth, in – let's say – a seedy world."

"I ran with gangs, Garrus. I did a lot of things I wish I hadn't."

"Fair enough. But you must have picked up some of the slang."

"I'm . . . better than that now."

"What, you want to be so good you don't have to shit?"

Hera glared at him. "Are you gonna be like this the whole goddamn –"

Suddenly, the ship lurched violently, and they both felt a rumble from below deck.

"What the –"

Another explosion, and the ship veered to port.

Garrus had already energized the weapons systems. "On our six," he said, all business. He looked at Hera. "Can you fly with one hand?"

"Can I – are you kidding? I can fly with _no_ hands!"

She quickly switched over to manual control while she kicked off her boots, then slid down in the pilot's chair and began evasive maneuvers – with her toes.

Garrus raised an eyebrow. "Very impressive . . . and flexible."

"Shut up and shoot, G."

"On it."

Garrus fired several blasts as Hera took Jack into a steep dive, cutting power to the engines at the same time. Jack flipped end over end as the three pursuing ships shot past. Then the engines reignited and Jack gave chase, the attacking ships now within range of the forward cannons.

Garrus fired again and one of the ships – a design neither Hera nor Garrus had seen before – disintegrated into superheated metal confetti.

"Nice shot," said Hera.

"Nice flying," said Garrus.

The two remaining ships split up, each trying to get behind Jack again. Hera cut power to just the starboard engine this time.

Jack spun around and Hera started the engine again, now heading on a collision course with the oncoming ships, closing the distance faster than they could get a firing solution.

Garrus's eye went wide at the approaching ships. "Hera - !"

"Fire, Garrus – NOW!"

Deadly blasts erupted from Jack's weapons. The closer of the attacking ships exploded. But Garrus couldn't target the second ship in time, and although it tried to veer away at the last second, it collided with Jack.

It was only a glancing blow, but at space travel speeds, glancing is enough. The attacker went into a flat spin as electricity arced across its hull and gases erupted from torn conduits. When the two met, there were a couple short flickers of sparks, and then the ship disappeared into a ball of flame which winked out of existence almost immediately, leaving debris still spinning into the cosmos.

Jack shuddered as the impact rippled through her hull. Garrus and Hera's bodies strained against their flight harnesses as the ship groaned, resisting its new trajectory. Warning lights flashed across the main panel as klaxons sounded.

"Damage!" shouted Hera.

Garrus looked at the monitor. "Losing oxygen, engines down, hull breach, weapons –"

"Get a helmet on and fix the air and the breach, NOW!"

Garrus raced from the cockpit, snagging a rebreather on the way through the hatch.

Hera struggled to bring the engines and weapons back online, rerouting power from nonessential systems, but to no avail. She initiated a hard shut down of the grid, then froze as she glanced out the canopy.

"Oh."

* * *

Garrus isolated the damaged oxy-lines and bypassed them. He grabbed a torch from the emergency station and began welding the breach, still hemorrhaging precious air into the vacuum of space. _Who the hell were those guys? _he thought.

"Garrus," Hera's voice, strangely calm, came over his helmet's speaker.

"Getting there, Hera," he replied. "Thirty seconds."

"Garrus," she said again. "We've got company."

He froze. Something in her tone, that icy composure, put his every nerve on alert. They were in real trouble.

He finished the weld. "On my way."

* * *

Garrus arrived in the cockpit less than a minute later. "What is it, Hera?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder, then nodded out the canopy. Garrus followed her gaze – and his jaw dropped.

"Oh, hell."

The ship outside was gargantuan. Roughly cylindrical in shape, its hull – if you could call it that, it seemed too organic to call a hull –a dim brown, it dwarfed Jack.

"Hera, I think that thing has its own weather system."

"Not to mention gravity. It's caught us."

"Like a spider trapping a fly. Is it –"

"Yeah. Collectors."

"I thought we –"

"Yeah. Me too. Guess not."

Jack began to move steadily towards a cavernous opening in the side of the Collector ship.

"Here we go," said Garrus.

"Get your weapons," said Hera. "Load up. I'm not going down without a fight."

"Will do. But, Hera," he said. "If they wanted to kill us, they would have done so already."

She considered, then nodded. "Okay. Be ready for anything."


	5. Chapter 5

****Sorry for the delay, dear readers. I had some pressing non-fiction that needed to be addressed. But I'm happy to have the quill in my hand once again. I hope it's worth the wait.

* * *

Garrus pointed his rifle down the dark tunnel, clearing each nook, then motioned for Hera to move forward. She took point with her pistol, holding it with her hand left hand while the right dangled uselessly at her side. Then it was his turn again, always covering her weakened flank. They moved smoothly, as if they were reading each other's minds – when to move, when to hold.

The walls were the color of old mustard, and the light within them faded in and out. Their boots clung to the floor, sticky with secreted ooze. The air was damp and heavy and feverishly hot.

"I have a bad feeling about this," said Garrus. "Hera, I think this ship is sick."

"Yeah. Me too," said Hera. "And where is everybody?"

"_Somebody_ brought us on board . . . which reminds me – the fighters that attacked us? Collectors?"

"No," Hera said immediately. "Too . . . artificial. Too clean." She nodded at the tunnel walls. There was a pulsing liquid running through - "Are those veins?"

"Yeesh," said Garrus. "Yeah. That's what I thought, too." He sighed. "Why do we always have the whole galaxy against us?"

"It's because we're so pretty. They hate us because we're beautiful."

"Well, that explains _me_, but . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Turian of the Year."

"Hey, that was a very respectable magazine – wait."

Hera stopped.

Around a bend in the tunnel, a group of cocoons leaned against the wall. Their translucent membranes glistened with a honey-colored gel. Garrus crouched, looking inside. He could see shadows . . . moving. He felt a shiver go up his spine.

"I really don't want to see what's in these," he muttered. He glanced over his shoulder at Hera, then froze.

"Hera, don't turn around."

Hera turned around.

Seven Collectors stood silently right behind them, blocking their return to the ship. Hera and Garrus brought their guns up, but the Collectors didn't move.

Hera tilted her head to one side. "Okay. Keep going. Eyes wide."

The tunnel sloped upwards as strange, cancerous growths the color of bruises had started to appear here and there on the walls and ceiling. Eventually, the corridor emptied out into an open, cavernous area. Hera and Garrus stepped out into a Collector control station.

But the honeycomb pattern, so precise and predictable, was gone. In its place was an abomination. The floor and walls looked almost melted, the colors faded to a splotchy grey. The primary console was engulfed in a swarm of tiny insects, lazily buzzing and crawling about. Tentacle-like appendages rippled around the edge. Hundreds of Collectors stood silently around the perimeter of the station. The seven behind followed Hera and Garrus up the tunnel. None of them had their weapons drawn.

"Well, this is just getting creepier by the minute," said Garrus.

"Yeah. I almost wish they were shooting at us."

"I'm just glad the rebreather doesn't allow odors in. I'm pretty sure I'd vomit in my hardsuit."

The two of them made their way across the control platform to the only area not populated by the silent, watching Collectors.

"I feel like I'm being herded," said Garrus.

"Like a Pyjack."

As soon as they stepped onto the far section, it detached from the rest of the platform with a slow sucking sound and rose into the air. The two soldiers rocked with the motion.

"Hmm. The plot thickens."

"I do love a good mystery," said Hera as the platform carried them further into the Collector ship. Suddenly, she froze. "Hang on. Do you hear that?"

Garrus cocked his head to one side. He _could_ hear something. It was faint, but . . .

"Shepard, what is that?"

"It's music, dumbass."

"I _know _it's music, Commander Smartypants," he retorted as the faint strains grew louder. "What's the _tune_?"

"I don't know, but I don't feel like dancing. Stay frosty."

"I always feel like dancing, and I'm always . . . frosty."

The music filled the air around them, the rhythm pulsing louder and louder as the platform began to descend.

The platform attached itself to a new control station, this time surrounded by . . . Hanar?

"Well, that's a surprise," said Garrus as they stepped off the platform.

"These ones welcome you," said one of the Hanar. They parted to allow a path forward.

"Why are there jellyfish on a Collector – oh. Of course."

"Of course what?"

"Who do the Hanar worship, Garrus?"

"The Enkindlers . . . meaning the Protheans. Ah." Garrus stopped and looked at Hera. "Yes."

She nodded. "The Collectors are all that's left of the Protheans. So it makes sense that –"

" – they'd worship them. Got it."

They continued further, following the corridor as it led down into the bowels of the ship. The engines thrummed, out of sync, through the deck under their feet.

"But how did they ever meet? " Garrus wondered aloud.

Hera shrugged. "Got me. Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah, it does. There's something else going on here. It doesn't add up."

They entered a low, dark chamber. A long desk, almost looking as if it was constructed of alien bones, reached across the width of the room. An oversized chair – almost a throne – of the same material was turned away from them on the other side of it.

"Now what?" said Garrus.

"Now," a voice rumbled. "We will discuss how you will help me restore the Prothean Empire."

The chair turned around and Hera and Garrus found themselves staring into two pairs of yellow eyes.

"Javik!"

"My old friends. Welcome." The last Prothean stood and spread his arms wide. "Welcome to the future."

"What the hell's going on here, Javik?" Hera demanded. "What future?"

"It will be a future that looks much like my past," Javik said. "I have built an army that will help me begin the process of bringing an honorable culture to your galaxy. Once again, my people will rise."

Garrus regarded Javik for a moment, then cast a sidelong glance at Hera. "Um –"

"You think me insane, Garrus," said Javik with a smile that nearly confirmed it in Garrus's eyes. "But I promise you, I am not mad. I am merely trying to find my home in this strange world."

"As are we all," said Hera. "But rebuilding the Prothean Empire –"

"There's no place for me here in the future. And with no war to fight, there is no honor to be had. But then I recalled the Collectors – they were once Protheans, until the _Reapers_," he spat the word, "defiled them. And I began to wonder, perhaps there were still some Prothean souls that the Reapers could not touch, buried under their manipulations, their corruption. And perhaps, only I, the last Prothean, could reach them, could make them into what they – what _we_ – once were."

Garrus cast his eye back up the hallway. "But you needed help."

"Indeed. The Hanar revered my people as Gods. It was quite simple to convince them that, with their help, I could make their Gods flesh again."

"It can't be done, Javik," said Hera. "I sympathize – I do. But there's nothing Prothean left in these creatures."

"There will be. I am working on several . . . projects . . . to restore their true natures."

"Like the music?" asked Garrus.

"No, but it soothes both the Hanar and the Collectors," Javik explained. "They become more . . . pliable. Easier to . . ."

"Control?" said Hera. "You want to rebuild the Empire, but you're using beings with no free will! How can you possibly think that they could be even a shadow of what your people were without their own minds?"

"It is a process. Like the ship. This . . . inelegant . . . vessel is changing, becoming more like those of my forefathers."

"Uh, I hate to break it to you," said Garrus, "but your ship is seriously diseased. It's basically breaking down."

"It's a metamorphosis," said Javik. "Like a caterpillar to a butterfly, on your Earth, Commander."

Garrus and Hera exchanged a look. "Javik," said Hera slowly, "how long have you been out here?"

"A great many years now. But not long enough."

"It's just that, well, sometimes, when people are isolated for a long time, they can kind of lose their, um, perspective a bit."

"More than a bit," said Garrus. "Maybe it would be a good idea to get a second opinion on all this. Think it through after hearing what someone else has to say."

"Oh, but I have. I have made entreaties. I have other sources of help. Even the Shadow Broker has provided me with resources, contacts. Scientists who feel, as I do –"

"Wait. Stop," Hera interrupted. "_Liara_ is helping you?"

Javik paused. "I am surprised you did not know. Yes. We have maintained a correspondence regarding these matters. We did not see eye to eyes when we first met, it is true, but we do respect each other. We have had many long conversations on the subject. Her knowledge of my people in some ways outstrips my own. She has been very helpful with my plan."

Hera had stopped listening and could now only hear her pulse rushing hot throughout her body. There was a roaring in her ears and her vision had become very focused and hard.

Garrus saw the change in her and stepped forward. "Javik, I think you'd better stop –"

But that was as far as he got.


	6. Chapter 6

Hera rushed forward, her fist cocked to strike at Javik's throat. She let the punch fly – only to have it stopped an inch from its target. Garrus locked his arm over hers and held it in place.

"Let. Me. Go. Garrus. Now!" she hissed.

He looked into her eyes, unblinking. "No, Hera." He stepped forward, forcing her back toward the doorway. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Not now. His time will come, but we're on _his_ ship, surrounded by _his_ soldiers."

Hera tried to break free, but his grip was too strong. He held her gaze as her jaw clenched, brow furrowed, clearly struggling inside. Finally, she relaxed her arm just enough to pull back. She looked up at him. "How could she - ?" Then her commander's mask came up again, hardening her face. "Fine," she said. "You deal with him. Get us out of here."

She turned and stormed from the room. Garrus sighed as he watched her go. _Goddammit, Liara, _he thought. _Do you have any idea what you're doing to her?_

Javik came up to stand with Garrus at the hatchway. "What was that all about?"

Garrus turned to the prothean, fixing him with his eye. "It's personal. None of your business."

"Good. Domestics are . . . trouble."

_You've really missed out, Javik_, thought Garrus. _You've been a soldier – without any other life - for over 50,000 years. No wonder you went insane._ Garrus paused, realizing . . . _If I hadn't met Hera, well, I might've turned out the same._

"So tell me more about this plan," he asked, his cop instincts kicking in. _Keep him talking_. "You've created an army. The ship is, uh, changing. What's the next step?"

"I continue my experiments. The hanar obtain resources for me – knowledge, credits, genetic material."

Garrus looked at Javik. "What kind of genetic material?"

"Some . . . lesser species."

_There are prisoners here. Great._

"And the cocoons I saw on our way in – part of your experiments?"

"Yes."

"Those are turning into protheans?"

"No. Not yet. I'm breaking down their bodies into raw genetic material. I hope to grow them into a hybrid species, which can then breed with the collectors."

Garrus felt a cold knot in his stomachs. _Those things – those are people. And they're still alive . . . as they . . . dissolve._ He fought the urge to be sick. _Be cool, Garrus. You can't help them now. But you can stop it from happening again._

"With each successive generation," Javik continued, "my children (Garrus shuddered at the use of the word) will become more and more prothean, until at last, we will stand again. And then the galaxy will never be the same."

* * *

Hera's feet carried her forward, striding through the rotting corridors. She had no idea where she was going, and she didn't care. She was just filled with a desire to simply _run_, to move, to get away, to go anywhere. But no matter how far or how fast she went, she could feel Liara just behind her, haunting her. Cackling, even. Hera's cheeks burned red, but her eyes were dry and hard.

"What the _fuck_, Li?!" Hera muttered as she stalked through a sphincter-like opening into another area of the ship. "What are you _thinking_?!"

"Oh, Shepard." She heard Liara's voice inside her head. "Surely you know what I am thinking. The galaxy is changing, and so am I. I do not expect a short-lived species like yours to understand, but Javik and I understand that we must shift with the tides. What you and I shared was . . . fun, but now it is time to let go."

Hera felt an ache in her chest, as if she had been stabbed with a rusty blade. Still, she kept her jaw clenched, her defenses up. "Fine. That's what I expected, anyway," she muttered. "But _this_? It's . . . _sick_, Liara! It's wrong! You're a goddamn scientist! You know better than this. How could you help him?"

She imagined Liara's face twist in a smirk. "Well, you know I have always been fascinated with the protheans, Shepard. Perhaps Javik awakened something . . . perverse . . . in me."

Hera's hands balled into fists. "Guess you've been looking for something new for a while," she hissed.

"Oh, no, Shepard," said Liara, her tone mock-innocent. "You were always enough for me." Her voice changed harshly. "Until you weren't."

"And Garrus wonders why I'm out here instead of with you," said Hera, her teeth clenched. "You don't want me around anyway."

"Is that why you left?" asked Liara. "Is that why even when you're sleeping in our bed, you're light years away? Admit it; you were the one who turned away from me. Can you blame me for looking elsewhere? Can you blame me for finding something . . . better?"

"NO!" Hera roared. She pulled back a fist and let it fly into the wall before her, again and again. "No, goddammit, no!"

She didn't stop until her hand was bloody and raw. She leaned against the putrid wall, feeling it give a bit with her weight. Her eyes and throat burned as she turned and slid down to the floor. "Goddammit," she whispered, her breath hitching. "Godddammit. How am I supposed to do this?"

She closed her eyes and just let herself breathe for a full minute. In her mind she was pulling on her armor – helmet, visor, breastplate, gauntlets, suneate, kôgake. With each piece, she felt her temper recede. She was a gorram marine, for fuck's sake, and she would not be taken so low – not even by her heart. She walled off her feelings about Liara and her role in all this. That would wait. Javik had to be dealt with _now_.

Hera got to her feet and appraised her surroundings with clear eyes.

This was an area of the Collector ship she had never seen before. The corridor glistened with a dark red glow, as if it had fever sweats. Strange pustules – almost like warts – dotted the walls, the floor, the ceiling. She heard a wet, sucking sound, like sluggish fluid being pumped through too small a pipe.

She made her way further down the tunnel, pistol held in her bloody hand while her other shoulder throbbed with pain. _Jesus, I'm a mess_, she thought. _Well, maybe while Garrus is getting intel out of Javik, I can put the parts of me that still work to use. Let's see what the hell else is going on in this floating asylum._

Hera came out of the passageway into a junction of six tunnels, one of which was blocked by a sticky, web-like substance stretched across its mouth. _Doesn't look too inviting. Time to crash somebody's party._

She activated her omni-blade and sliced through the membrane. It was tougher than it looked.

The dimly-lit tunnel led downward. _Life support? Crew quarters? _Hera mused. She added infrared to her visor's filter, adjusting the parameters to compensate for the heat emanating from the walls. There was some sort of mass up ahead putting off a lot of heat.

She turned a bend and found herself overlooking a gigantic . . . pool? Lake was more like it. But the liquid . . . it was . . . well, it looked like soup. Chunky and thick. It rippled, like it was being stirred somehow, from underneath. Just below her, a shape rose into view. It was the body of a Salarian, partially decayed.

It opened its eyes, then lifted the remains of its hand to reach for her.

Shepard involuntarily stepped back, then looked again at the lake. It was full of bodies. And some were clearly still living, swimming in a sea of blood and waste and . . . each other. _Holy Fuck._

Hera caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned, bringing her weapon up. Several Collectors were coming down the corridor. None of them had guns, but they were armed with something that ended in a cruel-looking claw.

She fired, twice, and two of her assailants dropped to the floor. The others did not slow. Her breathing quickening, Hera backed against the wall, firing again. She felt something touch her foot and glanced down. A long pink tendril had snaked out of the wall and curled around her boot. _The hell?_ More Collectors were now advancing from the other direction as well. She aimed her weapon towards them, but before she could fire, another tendril from the wall had wrapped around her wrist with surprising strength. More and more of them sprang from the wall, tightening around her limbs and her body. She struggled against their hold, but although they were flexible, she might as well have been struggling against iron. Behind her, the wall was opening like a wound.

The Collectors were almost upon her when she was pulled into the wall with a slurping sound. The ship sealed itself behind her, as if she had never existed.

* * *

"So," said Garrus. "Say you actually accomplish this and the protheans are reborn – what comes next? Go live in peace, isolated? Or mingle again with the galactic community? We know what is was like the last cycle – you enslaved all the other races, like you've done to the collectors and the hanar."

"Primitives. They need guidance. I am giving it to them."

"What about me, Javik? Am I a primitive, too?"

"No. Well, perhaps, but you have more potential than they."

"Wow. Thanks."

"You are welcome. Your people need not fear. Nor the humans or the asari."

"But everybody else?"

"They will need to be judged."

"Uh-huh. And you think you should be the one judging because . . . ?"

"Because our destiny was stolen from us."

"Look, Javik, I understand. But you had your chance. The Reapers destroyed you. And it's not fair – but there it is."

"And then I was given a chance to return, and revenge the injustice that was done against my people. I wanted to offer you a chance to right this wrong. I thought, of all people, you, Garrus, and Shepard would understand." Javik sighed. "I knew it was a slim chance. But if you would not join me, I knew you would try to stop me . . . and I cannot have that, either."

"In that case, I think I must be going," Garrus edged toward the doorway.

"I think not."

A dozen Collectors entered the room, armed with the same pincer-like weapons that Hera had seen.

Garrus turned back to Javik as the guards advanced. "I may be an old man, Javik, but I still know crazy when I see it. You're a warrior, not a tyrant. You're better than this. See reason."

"At least, my friend, you will contribute in some small way." Javik gestured to the Collectors. "Part of you will be reborn."

The nearest guard pointed his pincer-weapon at Garrus, and a long needle emerged, tipped with blue fluid. It jabbed and sank into the Turian's flesh.

Garrus felt his muscles slacken immediately, and he fell to the floor. He was still completely conscious, however, and heard Javik tell the Collectors, "Add him to the next batch."


End file.
